


The Pied Piper

by Scribblesinink (Scribbler)



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribbler/pseuds/Scribblesinink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When SAMCRO finds itself buried neck-deep in trouble, Jax has a plan to fix everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pied Piper

**Author's Note:**

> I totally didn't see that twist at the end of Season 3 coming. This is a conversation the club must have had at some point. Set during 3.05 _Turning and Turning_. Thanks to Tanaqui for betaing.

The chapel was uncharacteristically silent. The only sounds were the breathing of the eight men around the table and the occasional sigh of leather when someone adjusted their position. Cigarette smoke wreathed in slow-moving patterns under the lamps.

Jax didn’t mind the quiet; it gave him time to think, time to hunt down the glimmer of an idea that was bouncing around in his skull. Maybe—.

“What a bloody fucking mess.” Chibs, never known for his patience, was the first to break the silence and voice what they were all thinking.

Tig snorted softly in response, while Juice muttered under his breath, “Understatement.”

Jax could only agree: between Abel’s kidnapping, the gun charges hanging over their heads, the bail hearing getting pushed forward, and now Gemma cuffed to her hospital bed and accused of a double homicide, _bloody fucking mess_ didn’t even begin to cover it.

“Goddamn bitch.” Chibs again. Jax knew who he was talking about: Stahl hadn’t wasted a minute after Gemma had been rushed into St. Thomas’ emergency room. The feds had swooped down and slapped the cuffs on his mother before she’d even regained consciousness.

“Got that right.” It was all Opie said, softly, but Jax heard what he didn’t voice. _Should’ve killed her when I had the chance._ And while Jax was glad Opie hadn’t—the last thing those kids needed was to have their dad sent off to death row—he couldn’t help but think that if Opie had killed Stahl, none of this would’ve happened. Gemma wouldn’t have been set up to take the fall for a murder she didn’t commit; Cameron Hayes wouldn’t have had any reason to grab Abel and whisk him off to Belfast to—Jax stopped there, anger and fear for his son threatening to rise as nausea in his throat.

“Ideas?” Clay asked, his tone revealing nothing. He managed to hide it well—better than he was doing himself, Jax thought—but Clay was scared too. Scared for his wife, for the club, for the future.

“Kill ‘em all.” Tig scrubbed a hand across his face. “Blaze o’ glory. Break Gemma out, make a run for it.”

Clay narrowed his gaze at Tig, but didn’t bother to respond. Even for Tig, the suggestion was more about releasing some pent-up steam than a real plan.

“We gotta get to Ireland.” Chibs’ accent was more pronounced than usual, laced with suppressed frustration. “Grab that bastard O’Phelan, make him give back Jackie’s kid.” _And my family_ , Chibs didn’t need to add; the words were obvious in the way his hands clenched and unclenched.

“Can’t.” Bobby leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Skipping bail and heading for Vancouver is one thing. Ireland…?” He shook his head. “Whole ‘nother ball game.”

“So we need to get that hearing postponed,” Juice suggested.

Piney added in a rumble, “We need to do a hell of a lot more than that.”

“Piney’s right.” Clay straightened and counted off on his fingers: “One: get Abel back. Two: get Gemma off the hook. Three: protect the club. So—.”

“Four,” Chibs interrupted Clay with a grunt, “finish off that bastard.” He clearly wasn’t about to let go of the deep hatred he had for Jimmy O.

Clay pinned Chibs with a glare, his heavy brows turned down over his eyes in annoyance for a moment, before he nodded. “That’s four.”

“Five.” Opie spoke again, much to Jax’ surprise. He usually didn’t say much in church, preferring to listen, but when he did speak, it was a good idea to pay attention. “Take care of Stahl. She’s done enough damage to this club.”

“That’s a pretty big order,” Juice objected. Jax wasn’t sure if he meant Stahl, or all five points. Didn’t really matter: Juice was right.

But—. “I’ve got an idea.” All eyes swiveled in Jax’s direction. Suddenly nervous, he toyed with the lighter lying on the table in front of him next to a half-finished pack of smokes. They weren’t gonna like what he had to say.

“Let’s hear it.” Clay caught Jax’s gaze.

It was odd, Jax thought. For all their going toe-to-toe these last months, after Gemma had revealed what Zobelle had done to her, Clay had been a lot more willing to listen to him. He was glad for it; with what he had in mind, he needed Clay in his corner, or he’d never pull it off.

“Stahl.” He let his gaze travel around the room. “She’s the key. We need to get her on board.”

For a long minute, stunned silence reigned. Then the chapel exploded into a cacophony of voices as they all started talking at once.

Clay pounded his palm on the table repeatedly. “You want us to work _with_ the bitch? Turn rat?” he asked, once the clamor had died down a bit. His brows were raised skeptically.

“Of course not.” Jax tugged at his beard. “But make her believe we do.”

“I don’t know, Jax.” Opie leaned forward, concern in his eyes. “She’s ruthless, but she’s also smart. She’ll never believe the club would cooperate with her. Not after—.” He abruptly cut off what he’d been about to say. _Not after Donna_.

“I know,” Jax admitted. “That’s why we need to be smart, too.” He proceeded to lay out the plan he’d started forming ever since he’d followed Stahl on a whim and written down her license plate. Once he was done, there were questions, and more objections, and then suggestions for improvement. Finally, the room fell quiet as they all mulled over the scheme.

“It might work…,” Bobby said cautiously.

“Or it might not.” That was Tig. Subterfuge generally wasn’t Tig’s strong point.

“That’s why nobody outside this room can know,” Jax cautioned. “ _Nobody_.”

Chibs drew a breath. “I don’t know, Jackie-boy.” He shook his head. “You’ll be alone, exposed. Nobody to have your back. If it goes bad—.”

“SAMCRO can’t be there for you.” It was all the concern Clay would allow himself to show, Jax knew.

“I realize that.” Jax spoke firmly, fully aware what he was letting himself in for. “I’m willing to take that risk.” _For my son, my mother, my club…._

Clay nodded, once, before turning his attention to the rest of the guys. “Let’s vote. All in favor?”

One by one, the gathered club members raised their hands, some more reluctantly than others. Jax let out a slow breath: the vote was unanimous. He didn’t need it—a simple majority would’ve been enough—but it spoke of their trust in him that they all supported the plan. He vowed to himself not to let them down, no matter what.

Clay rapped his gavel, confirming the decision and closing the meeting.

“Thank you.” Jax pushed back his chair. “Now we gotta take down Luke, to prove to Stahl we mean business.”

“I’ll come with you.” Chibs got up as well, as did Opie.

“Stop.” They froze, staring at Clay. The old man’s face was unreadable. “If Jimmy’s second gets so much as a whiff that Jax isn’t acting alone, he’ll spill it all to Stahl.”

Jax exchanged a look with his brothers and saw his own unease mirrored in their gazes. He’d thought he knew what he was getting into—but he hadn’t. Not really.

A cold shiver ran down his spine. Clay was right: he had to do it alone. _All_ of it.

***


End file.
